Learning Curve
by Aleia15
Summary: Some lessons you don't forget. AizenGrimmjaw


Title: Learning curve  
Author: **aviss**  
Pairing: Aizen/Grimmjaw, Grimmjaw/Ichigo  
Genre: Dark  
Rating: NC-17  
Warning: Hints of non-con

**Learning curve**

Obedience and submission were not two prominent traits found in any arrancar. The survival instinct forced to develop them, especially when faced to someone with the amount of power Aizen had, and that instinct was one any hollow still living in Hueco Mundo had in great quantities. 

That didn't mean they had to like it.

Grimmjaw knew--he had known from the moment he removed his mask and faced his new _Master_-- that he was different from the rest of the Espada. Most of them had taken naturally to kneeling in front of a power so huge it could crush them in a second. Grimmjaw, however, had felt infuriated because of his own weakness compared to Aizen, and had resented being forced to bow to him. And he had felt furious with his brothers-in-arms for giving in so easily.

And that anger had cost him dearly in more than one occasion.

That had been the reason Aizen-sama had taken special pains to teach him.

And Grimmjaw had learnt his lesson. He had learnt them all.

_A look_. Grimmjaw followed his master to his chambers.

_A pause_. Grimmjaw stopped, and removed his sword to let it fall to the floor. 

_A nod_. Grimmjaw removed his clothes.

_An extended hand_. Grimmjaw approached Aizen slowly, letting him look his fill of his naked body--long neck, defined torso, strong arms, slim waist, a dark patch of hair, hardening cock, and long muscled legs--faint scars telling the story of old battles and previous lessons.

_A slight smile_. Grimmjaw knelt in front of his master.

_A whispered word, "Grimmjaw."_ And he worshiped Aizen's body with his hands and tongue, giving pleasure with complete disregard for his own arousal. He knew his part on this little game and he played it flawlessly.

_A hand on his head, touching lightly_. Grimmjaw stood up and moved silently to the bed, laying down on it. 

This one had been hardest lesson of all. To wait silently for his master, to ignore his own unfulfilled desire until Aizen took his pleasure in Grimmjaw's body. It had been torture, and the first times nothing short of a real threat to his life had stopped him from touching himself.

Now he just forced his mind to focus in other things, not paying attention to the hard body on top of him, to the pressure and stab of pain of the penetration, to the rough taking of his body.

It was not about sex, that Grimmjaw knew well enough. It was about dominance and submission. His submission to Aizen-sama.

In his mind, Grimmjaw knew that had he been able to obey with the same readiness that his brothers-in-arms, those lessons would have been totally unnecessary.

_A sigh_. And Grimmjaw waited for Aizen to withdraw.

_Who do you belong to?_

The real power came from not having to ask the question. And that was the last lesson he had learnt.

"Aizen-sama." Grimmjaw said in response to the silent question, his voice ringing clear in the silent room. 

Aizen smiled at him then, a real smile that belonged only to Grimmjaw, and something like pride swelled in his chest. He scowled, and waited for the signal to stand up.

"Grimmjaw." 

Still painfully hard, he put his clothes back on. Class was over for now, and he was free to go.

Or should have.

"Just one more thing, Grimmjaw," Aizen stopped him almost at the door, and he froze. Slowly, he turned around trying to keep the annoyance from his face.

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

Aizen moved to the other door in the room, uncaring of his own nudity. Grimmjaw hesitated for a minute; he knew what was behind that door and was a place he didn't want to visit again. Knowing he really had no other option, Grimmjaw followed Aizen, wondering what had he done to be punished now.

"I think you have earned a little reward, Grimmjaw," Aizen said conversationally, leading him to the small side room.

Grimmjaw stared, puzzled. "Aizen-sama--" and then he did a double take, his mouth curling up in a cruel smile. 

In a corner of the room was the shinigami. Kurosaki Ichigo--orange hair matted with blood, clothes torn and filthy, beaten and unconscious. Grimmjaw didn't know how he had ended up there, but that saved him the trouble of looking for him.

"He needs to be taught," Aizen said, drawing close to the unconscious figure on the floor. "and I think you will be the perfect teacher."

Very gently, Aizen touched a scar marring the shinigami's face, his figer smearing blood over the pale skin. Grimmjaw felt his arousal spiking up again, and couldn't help the shiver of excitement that coursed his body.

"Yes, Aizen-sama," he said, his eyes fixed on the bloody face.

He didn't notice when Aizen left the room, his attention focused sorely on his new pupil.

Still smiling, Grimmjaw went to wake up the shinigami.

Classes were about to begin.

…

_Who do you belong to, Ichigo?_

_Grimmjaw._


End file.
